Shards of Merlin
by Cis100
Summary: Andy Tonks has died, Harry Potter, after years away, returns to home to assume custody of his godson. Meanwhile, a vengeful and powerful Unspeakable manages reunite an ancient power of Merlin in a bid to conquer the World. When tasked to defeat him, Harry finds himself on a trek to save the world. Can he defeat evil again while dealing with a child and a blond git? Powerful!Harry
1. Prologue

**Title: Shards of Merlin**

**Parings: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley/Zacharias Smith, Pansy Parkinson/Blaise Zabini, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Malfoy, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley (past). **

**Warnings:** **OOC-ness in regards to smart and powerful Harry, violence, sexual content (not very graphic), same sex relationships, cursing, torture. **

**Full Summary: Andy Tonks has died, Harry Potter, after a decade away, returns to England to assume custody of his godson. Just as he returns, a vengeful and powerful Unspeakable manages reunite an ancient power of Merlin in a bid to conquer the World. When he is tasked to defeat this man, Harry finds himself on another trek to save the world. Can he defeat evil again while dealing with a child and a snarky blonde? SmartandPowerfulHarry! EWE, Post-Hogwarts, slash. **

**Notes: This whole concept is not new, but this take on it is my version of it. I have tried my best adhere to the HP lexicon, but I might get somethings wrong from time to time, so forgive me that. This also has slash and an OOC-Harry in terms of his power, mentality and brains, so if that's a problem, leave now, alright? Enjoy!**

* * *

**Prologue**

Thomas Hall was a tortured genius.

All those years ago, his hopes for the future were bright and he could see the entire world in the palm of his hand. Born to the sweet muggle couple of Mr. Randall Hall and Mrs. Katherine Hall, young Thomas was given all the love, care and encouragement that loving parents could bestow upon their child. Academically gift from the moment he entered school, Thomas excelled. With a ravenous hunger, he assimilated knowledge beyond his age, quickly earning the reputation as the smartest boy in his town, and becoming the target of those, in his opinion, were intellectually inferior. With knowledge as his grounding point, Thomas threw himself into his studies, wanting to leave his cruel bullies and his home town behind, go to university, earn his degrees and never have to suffer any fool again.

However, all of those carefully crafted plans were derailed on the morning of his eleventh birthday. He admitted to himself that he couldn't have possibly accounted for the presence of magic of all things in his blood, but when that owl delivered that letter, he carefully set about to rearrange his entire life. He was not going to deny his newly found culture and birthright – he finally had something above all of the nasty little children that he went to school with. Finally! He would be able to escape and he'd never have to see them again!

That first trip to Diagon Alley – to Flourish and Blotts in particular, had awoken his mind to all of the possibilities of this new world, and suddenly abandoning his plans for his future in the muggle world didn't seem as painful. Werewolves, Centaurs, Giants, Goblins, Elves, potions and charms, there was so much to learn and he knew that his life would only be good after this. He was right about that presumption – he excelled at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In fact, he became the most academically gifted student to walk it's halls in a decade, a fact that he boasted to his parents about every summer and winter.

Being sorted in Ravenclaw House, naturally, his seven years at Hogwarts were peaceful and some of the best years of his life. True, he did not have many friends, but the friends that he did have were his fellow "bookworms" and "nerds" – and he couldn't have been happier.

For the most part, people left him alone and it allowed his genius to bloom.

When he took the O.W.L. exams in his fifth year and his N.E.W.T exams in his seventh year, he scored outstanding marks down the board and became one of the few students in the history of both Hogwarts and the exams themselves to do so. It seemed that even in the Magical World, he was destined for great things – and he was, at least he thought at first.

Almost immediately after the return and certification of his N.E.W.T exams, he was immediately offered a position within the Department of Mysteries. He became the youngest member of the department ever and the youngest inductee of the Unspeakables ever. When he joined one of, if not the, most secretive organization in the Wizarding World, he felt that the sky was the limit, and that he was going to be able to study the secrets of time, of death, of love and of reality itself. But that had been a pipe dream to say the very least.

He was immediately stationed in the archives.

Not that the assignment in itself was awful, the literature it provided was fascinating, but it was the way in which the assignment was given.

It was given to him like the treatment his childhood bullies gave him.

It was given to him like the moniker of "bookworm" was given to him at Hogwarts.

And he found all so… rage inducing.

How dare they? He had risen to heights at a pace that no one had ever had ever gone before! Not Albus Dumbledore! Not Lord Voldemort! Not Gellert Grindelwald! Not Hermione Weasley and certainly not the legendary Harry _bloody_ Potter. He was the smartest mind in the Wizarding World today! He was where he belonged in his opinion, but he was not at the place he wanted to be. He wanted to be studying the Veil, or to care for the Hall of Prophecy or to work with the Time Turners – he did not want to be down in the bowls of the department libraries. But his time would come, he would show them, he'd show all of them.

Tightly grasping his light wand in one hand, and carefully keeping his other hand behind his back, he strolled down to the darkened walkway, being sure to peer down each aisle. Two weeks ago, an accident in the upper levels of the department destroyed a portion of the magical barriers around the archives and it caused a nasty Ghoul problem. He'd been dealing with them ever since then, having killed three of them and incapacitated dozens.

Aiming his wand carefully at the dark center of the next aisle he came upon, he extended his hand and another ball of light slowly separated from his wand and began to drift down the rows of ancient books. When the noise of the exposed Ghoul hit his ear, he smirked.

The only silver lining in the Ghoul problem was that he could vent his rage.

Aiming his wand at the foul creature that stood at the end of the aisle, attempting to intimidate him, he summoned up the rage and anger that he'd been coveting for years now and opened his mouth. The first time he'd ever cast this curse on that first Ghoul last week, he'd been so nervous that he wasn't sure he'd be able to cast it – but the very fact that his supervisors were demanding that him and him alone deal with this had bolstered him.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" Thomas bellowed as the green jet of light left his wand.

Feeling immense satisfaction as the light struck the creature in the chest and caused him to fall over, irrevocably and completely dead – he stood there and basked in the feeling. He was an Unspeakable! He had power and knowledge that most witches and wizards couldn't fathom and if anyone had the right to use the Unforgivable curses, it was him and his peers.

So what if he pictured his supervisor and the Director of the department when he cast it?

So what?

As he regained his calm and reestablished the light at the tip of his wand, he turned on his heels to leave the aisle. However, his steps and his usually lighting fast thinking came to halt as a soft, faint voice came to his ear. Looking around and brandishing his wand for a fight, he snapped his head back, looked back at the dead Ghoul and paused. It was just a hallucination, he may be needed to take some time off and get out of this horrid dungeon.

And when he lowered his wand from its attack position, he heard the voice again.

"_Thomas_…"

The whisper chilled him – the voice, a faint, but distinctively terrifying and hoarse, could probably cast a chill over the toughest of Auror. Thomas whipped his hand behind him, completely sure that he had heard the voice from behind him.

"_Thomas…_"

The voice seemed to grow in intensity as he slowly stepped down the aisle.

And then it happened, his eyes fell upon a book, a book on the third shelf from the floor – a blood red book and all of his thoughts seemed to be bent on it. Lowering the wand as he stepped closer to the book – he noted, with fasciation, that the voice seemed to grow louder and in addition to his name, seemed to compel him to pick up the book.

Lowering his wand completely, he used his freehand to pull the somewhat heavy tome from the shelf and blow the layer of dust off of the cover with the deep breath.

Curious, most curious.

The elaborate title on the cover indicated that book was related to Merlin.

In Old English and Latin, the title roughly said that the book was on the 'Orb of Merlin' – and as he held his wand to the very bottom of the cover, he noticed the inscription in small Latin letters. The book was magically sealed with a blood sacrifice and could only be opened with one.

Looking up to where the deal Ghoul lay in the dark, Thomas smiled.

Interesting.


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One **

**Nine Years Later…**

**Harry's Point of View **

Adjusting my glasses, I flipped through the parchment and struggled to follow the rest of the briefing. I really had to focus and pay attention, of the fifteen directors of the various departments – I was the most senior, second to the President, and it would not look very good for me to be drift off. I couldn't help it though, last night my Hit Wizards had arrested the central leadership of the one of the biggest illegal potion rings in the country after three months of undercover work. The ensuring fight between them had resulted in the loss of one of my operatives and the deaths of three of the men that we had wanted to take alive. I had been up all night, writing letters to the family of my lost agent and taking a reaming from President Quahog himself – I hadn't even gotten a chance to go home and freshen up.

"And now we will hear from the Director of Magical Law Enforcement, Harry Potter," The President announced from beside me and I repressed the urge to glare at him. Sam Quahog was the youngest President of the Magical Congress of the United States ever, in its history, and while we considered each other friends, sometimes he grated on my nerves, quite a bit.

Clearing my throat, I looked down to my prepared remarks and tried to force strength into my voice, "Last night, my operatives concluded a three month undercover operation to find the leadership of the illegal South American potion ring that identifies itself as "_El mortero de plata y mano de mortero familia_". It resulted in the death of one Hit Wizard, and three of our suspects – the family of this Hit Wizard have been notified and I have sent them my condolences. Our remaining suspects have been arraigned and are currently awaiting trial."

"And were there any problems with muggle witnesses?" Richard Jenkins, Director of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes asked, sitting opposite me, right of the President's position. When I first came here, five years ago – I had been shocked to find that the inner workings of wizarding government of the United States were very similar to that of Great Britain. However, after studying the original split of the American Wizards from the British Wizards – I found that the Americans decided to model their government after them completely, with the exception of the President and the Congress, it helped me a lot.

Culture shock was something that I'd experienced a lot in my travels over the past decade, but it had been easier to deal with here, it was different, but still had a taste of familiar.

I nodded, "There were two witnesses in the vicinity, both of them were homeless people, one of my operatives noticed them and placed a tracking spell on them. I've already spoken to my muggle counterpart at the CIA and relayed their location to them. They've detained these two individuals and they are holding them for your Obliviators, at your convince."

"That's illegal," Richard commented and I rolled my eyes.

The President had already brought that point up a number of times, and while there was no law that prevented it on Muggles, he'd made it clear that my actions were in a legal gray area and had ordered me not to do it again. Setting my parchment down, I pinched the bridge of my nose and let out an irritated sigh, "These men were muggles, they were witnesses to our operation, and though people are unlikely to believe them, they could pose a problem. I can't order a tracking spell on a wizard, but there's nothing saying that I can't place one a muggle. My actions, though unorthodox and questionable, are perfectly legal."

As I expected, all Richard could do was shake his head and write a note on his parchment.

"Alright," Richard said as he set his quill down, "I presume they're being held in Virginia?"

I nodded.

"Alright," President Quahog interrupted and all heads at the conference table turned back to him, "Before anyone files any formal complaints against Director Potter, I've already warned him not to do this again. He is right though, his actions were not illegal, so don't complain."

Five years ago, I would never have imagined that I'd be in this position – the Director of Magical Law Enforcement in the United States, tied down to one job, in one place and not having the freedom to leave. When I left home ten years ago, I was determined to learn everything that I could, learn the deepest secrets of magic and not be caught with my trousers down again. Ever since I was eleven years old, the recurring motif of my character had always been that I was very powerful, but my knowledge of magic was modest at best and I always had to live my life under that cloud. When the war against Lord Voldemort began, I had live with the strain that the madman knew hundreds, or perhaps thousands of ways to kill me and kill me creatively. When I killed him, I swore I'd never be weak again.

I promised myself that I would become one of the most powerful, if not the most powerful and knowledgeable wizard alive. Never again would I allow some Dark Wizard to kill or threaten anyone that I loved – and not be able to strongly defend against them. I studied everything that I could get my hands on, spending the first year teaching myself the core foundations of magic. I'd mastered Arithmancy, Transfiguration, Mental Magic, Medical Magic, and even after quite some time of failing and trying again, Potions. Those five years of my life had been the most beneficial of my life and really demonstrated the holes in my knowledge. In the process of those three years, I'd mastered all that I thought I couldn't.

In the two years before I came to America, I started studying the far more arcane and uncommon forms of magic, including Wandlore and martial magic. Then I began to delve into the Dark Arts and that period of my life, in the wilderness – practicing on all forms of animals, was one of the bleakest of my life. It took a lot of time for me to shake off the after effects of some of those forms, but it was worth it. In my opinion, the only way to combat the darkest of magic was to learn it, master it and fight a big fire with a big fire.

How I had assimilated so much knowledge in only five years would forever remain a mystery to me – but I silently suspected that it had something to do with my hand. No, it wasn't my first wand that I bought from Ollivander. The wand that I had studied all of this magic with was the wand that was rightfully mine, the wand that Albus Dumbledore had won from Gellert Grindelwald, the wand that Draco Malfoy had "won" from Dumbledore and the wand that I won from Malfoy. Yes, I still possessed and wielded the Death Stick, the Wand of Destiny, the unbeatable wand – the Elder Wand. Did my old friends know that the wand that I had returned to Dumbledore's tomb was the man's original wand? I didn't know. Had Dumbledore's portrait revealed to them my intention to keep the wand and protect it from all of those who would use the wand to conquer the world? I didn't know.

All that I knew was that after the first year, the letters had stopped and they left me alone to my task. In these ten years I had devoted myself to master all known forms of magic and taming the master of all wands and I had done it. Now this was my life, no more treks to the remote corners of the world to study ancient documents and practice ancient spells.

Now I was a roughly the second or third most powerful man in our world and a glorified bureaucrat, keeping law and order over America. At twenty eight years old, an age that for a little over half my life I didn't expect to reach, I'd peaked and it was a strange feeling.

I was okay with it on one hand, and yet, on the other, I was unsatisfied.

I still felt that there was something out there, waiting for me to discover it.

* * *

There were days when I loved my job.

I suppose that being the Director Magical Law Enforcement fulfilled the part of me that still suffered from an overwhelming and somewhat debilitating hero-complex. However, as I finally got back to my apartment and practically fell onto my couch, feeling every muscle, bone and joint my body ache, I knew that there were an equal amount of days when I hated it. Sighing, I withdrew my hand from the holster under my right wrist and waved it at the fireplace, closing off the floo connection and then in a circular motion above me, sealing the wards tight and locking the door. Putting the wand back into its holster, I closed my eyes and relaxed into the softness of the couch, I hadn't slept in thirty-two bloody hours.

To be in my position, you had to have a keen mind that had the ability to cope under duress and run at the speed of light. Sitting there, trying to drift off to sleep, I couldn't shake the nasty habit. Letting out an irritated growl, I leaned up and kicked my shoes off – why did I continue to work again? I had never really been a selfish person, or one of those people who lorded money over others heads, but I didn't have to work. I was one of the richest wizards in the magical world, on top of my ancestral fortune from the Potter Family – I also had possession of the Black Family fortune. If I ever worked up the fortitude to be selfish, I didn't have to work ever again – maybe, one day, I'd be able to stop working and just relax.

Propping my feet onto the table, I leaned back and closed my eyes, fully forcing myself to-…

When the sound of what could only been an owl broke the silence of my living room, I opened my eyes looked towards the window and saw a dark barn owl sitting there on the outside window still, a letter, or rather, two letters clutched in its mouth. Pulling out my wand again and quashing down the urge to curse the bird for interrupting my sleep, I flicked the wand at the window and watched it open. With a flap of his wings, the bird raised itself up and flew inside – and, call it intuition, something was telling me that the bird was not happy with me. Watching with some amusement as the bird gave me an indignant hoot, flew in, dropped the letters in my lap and flew in a circle to leave – I looked down at my lap.

The letters were from England or at least from Europe that much was clear from the letter carrier. We'd stopped using owls last year and started using falcons. Picking up the first one, I blinked in surprise – it was from Gringotts. It wasn't unusual for me to receive letters from the, they sent me a statement on my vaults every six months – but I'd received my statement last month. Setting the other letter aside for the moment, I opened the bank envelope, and pulled the parchment out, not really expecting anything shocking, I managed my affairs quite sufficiently from here and if it had been important, they would use the floo.

_Dear Mr. Harry Potter, _

_On behalf of Gringotts Wizard Bank, we would like to offer our condolences at the death of Mrs. Andromeda Tonks ('nee Black). We must, however, inform you that you have been named a claimant in the Last Will and Testament of Mrs. Tonks – and as such, it is our legal responsibility to inform you of the reading of Mrs. Tonks's Last Will and Testament. _

_If you wish to decline your right to attend the reading, disregard this letter – if you wish, we will deliver a copy of Mrs. Tonks's will to you and the property that she has left you. If you choose to attend, please come to Gringotts Wizard Bank on the 4__th__ of June, Tuesday. _

_Sincerely, _

_The Head Gringotts Goblin_

* * *

I was too angry to mourn for Andromeda.

The first time that I had ever met her, I confused her for her sister Bellatrix and nearly cast a curse on her – but over time, I learned that she was a very pleasant woman. Of all the members of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black – Andromeda was perhaps the bravest, with the exception of Sirius. She loved her family, in the way that people were supposed to love their family – but she understood what they were and decided to break the mold. She married for love and turned her back on everything she knew and how she was raised. She was inexplicably brave, and she was one of the most honorable people I knew.

The time to mourn for her would come later, because all I could think about was Teddy.

I did not know Teddy all that well, I sent him cards and gifts on his birthday and I suppose that I would always feel guilty for not getting to know him, but like mourning for Andy, guilt would come later. My ten year old godson would be entering a critical time in his life, one where he needed guidance and I intended to be there for him. With Andy, Tonks and Remus dead, his most immediate family, and mostly likely, the people he'd be sent to if I didn't intervene immediately, would be the Malfoy Family. I was less apprehensive with the idea of him living and being raised by Narcissa Malfoy and Narcissa alone, but when you factored in Draco… and Lucius, the idea stopped being an option. I would be the one to raise him, just like his parents intended if they or Andy died – and that time had come, it was here now.

Flicking wand my closet and then at my dresser drawers, I watched as all of my shirts and pants began to fly out of both locations, fold in midair and settle themselves down in my trunk. This was going to be difficult, uprooting the life that I had built for myself and going back to the one that I left. The thing that frightened me the most was all of the changes that time brought – some of my oldest friends, meaning Ron and Hermione, were probably married, they probably had a child, or maybe two. I didn't know at all, after the first year, I fell out of contact with them and I hadn't even bothered to keep it up. The only contact that I had back home was with Gringotts, the occasional letter with Andy, and gifts for Teddy.

Would they accept me back?

Did they miss me?

Would the resent me for coming back – especially under these circumstances?

No, no – I wouldn't care – if they wanted to resume our friendship, that was fine, and I'd do it, but if they didn't, I wouldn't care. I was going back for two reasons, to raise Teddy and to keep Teddy out of the claws of the Malfoy Family. When I was settled and had adjusted Teddy to his new life with me, I'd make time for making friends, and a new job, if I worked.

I couldn't see myself being a homemaker.

And while I was thinking about jobs, word had reached me from my work contacts in the British Ministry that Kingsley Shacklebolt was looking to shake up the British Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Looking back to the letter that I had hastily written, directed to President Quahog, I smiled slightly, perhaps I could apply for that job, I knew I would get it.

Years ago, I had learned to use my "status" to my advantage every now and then. It did seem that when you looked at it from a certain point of view, I was doing what I was always accused of from those who hated me, but I preferred to look at it differently. I knew I could do some good, and after my five year journey around the world, I knew I had the skills to back it up. So with my status, my skills and my former job as head of the DMLE for America, I suspected that I had a fairly good chance of getting the job if I wanted it.

I didn't hurt that I also friends the Minister of Magic.

With a tired sigh, I waved my wand over my now full trunk and watched as it shrunk down.

Now I had to pack my other things.

Moving was about as fun as the flu.

* * *

"Are you sure?" Sam questioned from behind me as I stood at his window.

Being the Director of Magical Law Enforcement had a few perks, one of which was my order for a hastily made, but very useful, international Portkey. First I had to resign thought and I had to make sure that the President understood my reasoning. For the most part, Sam had seemed to understand – he understood the necessity and the loyalty that one was supposed to show family in times like this. At first, he tried to make me understand that what I was doing was rash and that I should think about it – but then I filled him in on my family and more specifically Teddy. He agreed with me, Teddy needed to male guidance and safety.

"Completely sure," I nodded and turned back to him with a slight smile, "Sam, I'm sure that I don't need to tell you what will happen to the boy if the Malfoys take him in, am I right?"

He nodded with a smile and turned to look back at my resignation letter on his desk, and when I cast a silent Legilimens on him and delved into his mind – I felt resignation, humor and acceptance from him. Was it ethical to do this to a leader of the Magical World? No, but it wasn't wrong. All I wanted to know was that he was accepting of this, and that, in the future, should I need his recommendation, that he would not be vindictive about this choice.

Pulling out of his mind, I watched as he looked up and grinned, "I've served with a lot of people in my time and I must say that you were probably the best DMLE head we've had."

"I prefer to call it ruthless efficiency," I smiled charmingly at him and moved away from the window, offering him my hand. I would be forever grateful for him choosing me to serve in his cabinet – this opportunity and this job had given me a grounding point after the chaos of my world travels. I would forever consider Samuel Quahog one of my friends, if he wished.

"It'll be a shame to let you go," Sam said as he shook my hand and sat back down, and as I turned to leave, his afterthought stopped me, "I've heard some rumors that Kingsley Shacklebolt is cleaning house with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement over there."

I turned and raised an eyebrow, "I've heard the same things, and?"

"If you want the job, I'll contact Kingsley and sell you to him?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

All I could do was smile, "Mr. President, I'd been honored to have your recommendation, and when I learn if those rumors are true, I'll let you know – would that be acceptable."

Sam nodded, "Of course."

"Good," I nodded once more, "And I suppose I'll have to wait for my severance package?"

An excellent perk of being high up in the government, when I left, I received an entire years pay in one lump sum and it was quite a bit, reaching into the six figures.

Rolling his eyes, the President shook his head, "No – it'll be in your Gringotts vault by the end of the day."

Chuckling, I nodded my thanks to him and left his office.

It was time go home.


	3. Chapter Two

**AN:/ First, I would like to state that while this chapter might seem to be a little heavy on the Ron and Hermione-bashing, it's not serious and ultimately, the story will not feature it, at least not from Harry. And on a second note, for those of you who PM'd me and complained that Harry is not in character, I would like to say a resounding "duh" to all of that. If you want the exact characterization of Harry from the novels, then I suggest you go read them or another fanfiction - I'm trying not to veer too far off, but he won't be characterized _exactly_ like Rowling characterized him. **

**And I've tried to find the glaring misspellings and grammatical errors, or missing words, but if I missed any, I take full responsibility.**

**Please enjoy! **

* * *

**Chapter 2**

International Portkeys were hard to arrange and very hard to stomach. First, to create the Portkey, or at least a legal one, one government needed the permission of the other. I had the great fortune of having my request for one approved by my counterpart within the Ministry, but I was lucky, and I most assuredly got it more on my name then on my position within the government. More often though, the request was denied – and the paperwork and bureaucratic mess that one had to go through to get an International Portkey approved was enough to make you want to ride a broom. However, nothing, nothing at all compared to traveling by them. Normal Portkeys were difficult to handle already, but ones that traveled vast distances were ten times worse, I hoped I never had to use one again.

Nine years ago, I used several International Portkeys while traveling through the countries of Central America – and though the distance was not equal to the distance that separated Salem from London, it was still… indescribable. Not even that could prepare me for the feeling of traveling of traveling over three thousand miles by Portkey, with most of the distance being over the Atlantic Ocean. When I landed in, or rather _fell_ into, Leicester Square, an agonizing twenty minutes later, I kissed the ground and spent several minutes hugging it. I had never been so damned glad to see a solid slab of ground under me, never.

It was only through luck that no one saw me, and even if they did, who would believe their story? It was one thirty in the morning – I landed in the portion of the park that was the dimmest and there were no cameras on that park. If anyone said anything, they'd only gain the reputation as the crazy person who thought they saw someone fall out of the sky at one in the morning. Even they did manage to convince someone, it was the problem of the Obliviator Squad – I never intended to step back into this part of Muggle London anyway.

As far as the Leaky Cauldron went, none of the three people in the bar paid attention to me when I walked in. Two men sat at one of the tables near the dimming fireplace, still drinking and another, a woman, sat at the bar, sipping what appeared to be tea and reading through the newspaper. Taking quiet steps, as to not attract any attention to myself, I neared the bar itself and took a seat at one of the barstools. I wanted a room for the next few days and as far as I knew the only person to talk to about that was Tom, but it'd been a full decade since I had stepped foot in this place and there was the possibility that he'd retired or died.

"Harry Potter?" I looked up from the bar at the sound of my name being whispered in shock and locked eyes with the woman I had noticed when I had come in. I thought that wearing a cloak would provide me with some manner of privacy, but, it seemed, I was very wrong.

When I began to finally assimilate her features, recognition flared into my mind and I raced to remember who she was, because I never forgot a face. Brown eyes, messy blonde hair, the wild expression in said eyes – and then it clicked. Hannah Abbot and I had never really been friends through school. We had never really interacted in our first year and in our second year, she believed me to the Heir of Slytherin. She spent our third year obsessing over Sirius Black, and during the fourth year, she, as well as most of the school, turned on me when my name came out of the Goblet of Fire. It was only during fifth year that we finally became loose acquaintances, with the formation of Dumbledore's Army – and after that, we never really interacted again. It was a miracle that I could remember her so easily.

"Hannah?" My face scrunched up in confusion, "Hannah Abbot?"

She smiled slightly and got up off of the barstool to approach me slowly – when she spoke, she spoke with a sense of happiness in her voice, "Well, it's Hannah Longbottom now."

I smirked, "You married Neville?"

That was a good – during the final battle at Hogwarts, Neville had finally and completely come out of his shell and it pleased me that he had found happiness. With Hannah Abbot through? That was unexpected – but nice nonetheless, Neville deserved genuine happiness.

"Yeah," She nodded and then cocked her head, "What about you?"

I shook my head, "Nope – still single, and very happy."

And there was a reason for that – but that was none of her business.

Hannah nodded, "That's good-… eh, and I hope I'm not being rude-…"

I raised an eyebrow, "You're wondering what I'm doing here?"

"That's it," She nodded her head in affirmation, "No one's seen you around here in-… what's in been? Ten years now? And you come strolling in here at one in the morning, what's up?"

She didn't sound hostile at all, merely curious and she was justified in being so, I think. I knew that she would be one of the few people who would not be hostile to my sudden return to England after ten years away. Sure, I'd actively tried to hide from these people for the first five years, but the other five were not exactly spent hiding. Surely one of them knew that I had become Director of Magical Law Enforcement in America? Right? I was sure of that.

I sighed, "Andromeda Tonks died."

Hannah nodded, "I know, Nev told me – but what's that go-… oh."

I nodded in affirmation to her silent realization.

Casting a mental Legilimens on her – I was struck by the feeling of skepticism coming from Mrs. Longbottom and it irritated me to no end. Was this the feeling that I was going to encounter from all of my former friends? Were they going to react to the idea of my raising Teddy with skepticism? It was a healthy assumption. However, that would not bode well with resuscitating old friendships either – it played to the part of me that had become a perfectionist in this past decade. When I was still around here, I tended to take it on the chin and take all of the abuse that was hurled at me – if people like Hannah Abbot were expecting me to be the same Harry that I was, they were going to be in for a big surprise.

"Are you sure that's a good idea Harry?" Hannah asked me as I pulled out of her mind.

I nodded wordlessly.

"Well, it's none of my business anyway, I know that you'll do your best to take care of Teddy," Hannah seemed to surrender, though I knew she was doing that out of the interest of being polite. "So what are you doing here? Are you looking for a room? I have a few."

I smiled, obviously surprised, "You're the Inn Keeper?"

Hannah nodded proudly, "Yeah – Tom retired a few years ago and I took over for him, Neville teaches at Hogwarts and I run this place – it's a good life, nice and peaceful."

That was more than I could say about my life, but that wasn't any of her business.

"I'd like a room please."

Hannah nodded and turned on her heels to walk around my left side and around to the bar, and once she was there, she sunk to her haunches, preassembly to find some keys, "We have a room with a terrace on t-…"

"Any room will do," I interrupted – anxious to get to sleep.

* * *

I had two days until the reading of Andromeda's will, and that meant that I had exactly two days to get some of my affairs in order, mainly regarding a job, and a home for Teddy and I to live in. Marching through the Ministry Atrium, the hood of my cloak concealing my identity and glamour carefully in place to prevent the stray eyes of someone recognizing my face, I carefully kept track of my schedule for today. I was going to meet with Kingsley now, and I anticipated that meeting to last at least an hour – to inform him that if he was looking to replace the Director of Magical Law Enforcement, I would be available to take the positon.

At one o'clock, I had a meeting in East Devon with a real estate agent – I anticipated that Teddy was close to the Weasley Family, and while I didn't want to live next door to them, I didn't want to move across the country. I had already made the decision that I was going to live in a muggle home, but the size of it would depend on if I liked the house and if it had relative secrecy. While I wanted to live in a muggle home and have things like electricity, I did want Teddy to have the freedom to ride brooms and practice magic without having the fear of being exposed to the muggles. Yes, I would want to give Teddy all the freedom in the world and if I had live out in the middle of the country in an enormous house, I would.

* * *

"When President Quahog informed me that you had resigned, I admit that yours was the first name that came to mind to fill the position," Kingsley began as he sighed deeply and folded his hands across his desk, "However, you aren't guaranteed to be appointed to the position – I'm not sure if you're aware, but Mrs. Hermione Weasley is in the running for it."

In the past forty-five minutes, I had learned a few things that interested me.

Mrs. Hermione _Weasley_ was appointed Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement last year and the current head, whose name I wouldn't even bother to try and remember, was currently grooming her for the positon.

The second interesting thing was that _Ron_ was the Head of the Auror Office.

Both pieces of information were very surprising and very ironic, surprising because of all of the departments that Hermione could have worked for, the DMLE was at the bottom of that list in my opinion. It was shocking that Ron was the Head of the Auror Office – it was bloody amazing that he was the head of anything really. Ron, who had the potential to be a very competent Auror from what I remember, didn't seem the type for bureaucratic work. Was he good at it? Was the department sinking? Had he gotten a lot of his employees killed?

Both pieces of news were ironic, because in one way, I was going to be competing with _Hermione _for a job, and if I got that job, I would be the boss of both of my closest former friends. I knew, without an ounce of hesitation, that if I got that job, Ron would be beside himself in anger. I could hear him now, bitching about how I had stayed gone for a decade and suddenly came back, swooped in under his wife and stole her job opportunity.

I couldn't bloody wait.

"Well Minister, I can assure you that I'll be able to run the department with far greater ease then Mrs. Weasley," The irony was apparently not lost on Kingsley, judging by the shadow of a very light smile on his lips. "If you would like a copy of my resume, as well as my skills, I'd be happy to provide that for you. If you would like a recommendation from President Quahog, all you will have to do is contact him and he'll be happy to give one to you."

Kingsley nodded, "I will take you up on that."

"Good," I nodded and stood up from my chair before extending my hand, "Minister."

He bowed his head reached forward to shake my hand, "Director Potter."

* * *

Shutting the door to the Minister's office, I pulled my wand out of my wrist holster and waved it around my face, silently putting my glamour back in place. I had another two hours to kill before I had to Apparate to East Devon and I honestly didn't know what I was going to do until then. Smiling to myself as the charm took its effect, I holstered my wand and raised my hood, preparing for my inconspicuous exit from the Minister's offices to the elevator. When I took my first step though, the elevator at the end of the hall opened and out stepped the Head of the Auror Office – Ronald Weasley himself and I nearly laughed.

His hair, red as ever, was closely cut to present the image of the consummate professional and serial Englishman. Aside from the few signs of his aging, a wrinkle here and there, the only thing different about him was his beard, and I nearly gaped at the sight of it. It was the shock of seeing him so different, I knew that, and as he approached, I knew that I had to get it off of my face at once. When initially I planned to make an inconspicuous exit, I decided to change my mind at the last minute – perhaps it would prove advantageous to lay down the gauntlet to the Weasley Family. I was man enough to admit that in the past ten years, I had developed something of a competitive streak – and considering that I was now competing with Hermione, if I wanted the job, I would really have to play the game.

If told Ron that I was shooting for the same job as Hermione, he would, without a doubt, tell her and she would feel the need to prove herself more capable then me in the eyes of the Minister.

That was where my victory was located.

Hermione, for all her smarts, was not fit to run the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she lacked the iron constitution to get results and keep law and order in the world. Compassion and trust had its benefits, yes – but when dealing with criminals, you could very rarely be compassionate for them, and you couldn't trust them completely.

And Hermione, despite fighting a war, still did that – and that was a big advantage.

I knew for a fact that Kingsley valued the same traits that I valued and Hermione didn't possess them. In her bid to prove herself over me, she would expose her faults and lose.

"Hello, you must be Auror Weasley?" I modulated my voice with an Canadian accent.

Ron stopped in his tracks, looked up to me and offered me a hesitant smile before taking my hand and shaking it tightly. He was cautious, "That I am mate, and who are you?"

"Richard Owens, former Deputy Head of the DMLE in Canada," I pulled my hand back and offered him a smile, "I'm applying for the Head of the DMLE over here – I just heard that I'm gonna' be competing with Mrs. Weasley for it – I assumed that she was your wife?"

Ron's chest seemed to puff up proudly and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

I didn't care if he was my best friend at one time, I was going to enjoy deflating his ego.

"Yeah," Ron nodded and brought the files that he had been carrying in one hand to rest against his chest, "She's been angling for that job for years now – she's_ this_ close to it…"

And I knew the rest of his sentence without him even having to speak it. If I could read his mind without him detecting it, I expected that I would find him saying something like this mentally. I could practically feel the arrogance dripping from him: _good luck you grotty little twit, my Hermione's smarter and far more capable then you, she's got a lock on that job._

"I wouldn't say that," I smirked slightly. "You'll find that I'm very good."

"But my Hermione is better," Ron countered with his own smirk.

I wanted to snort.

"I wouldn't count on that," I let out a little laugh and tipped my head, "I look forward to being your new boss Auror Weasley."

* * *

The grounds of the mansion covered twenty eight acres in total. Aside from the squash and tennis courts, as well as the indoor pool and personal cinema – it was also perfect for some renovations that I had in mind. Ultimately, I wouldn't need the use the garage – so that could be torn down and converted into multi-purpose rooms. The large back yard had enough room to install a Quidditch pitch – and the land gave it enough privacy for me to install so high powered wards and it gave Teddy and his friends enough space to play when they wanted. There was enough space for a family, a big family, a Weasley-sized one in fact, at six bedrooms and seven bathrooms – we'd have a lot of excess space to live in.

Was it too big? I didn't know – was twenty-two thousand square feet obscene though? Yes.

Would Teddy even like it? I wasn't sure.

But, for just the space and privacy alone, I knew that I had to have it.

The only hang up that I had about it was the price and that hang up was perhaps the only thing left over from my earlier self, before power and study had changed me. I almost had an aversion to spending large sums of money – it was a side effect of living in a cupboard for the first eleven years of my life and having to make do with what was given to me.

I taught myself not waste anything.

So when the real estate agent told me that the mansion was selling for seven million pounds, I nearly had a stroke, because that equated to one and a half million Galleons at the current Gringotts exchange rate. But I couldn't afford to be cheap when taking care of a child.

I paid for it.

The house was mine and it was currently being furnished by house elves – it would be ready the day after tomorrow. Everything would be ready when I finally assumed custody of Teddy.

Laying back on the bed and closing my eyes, I smiled.

Already one day back home and I already had a home and was perfectly positioned to get a job.

Perhaps this wouldn't be so stressful.


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter 3**

**Harry's Point of View **

Gringotts Wizarding Bank building had always bore an element of intimidation.

When I first came to Diagon Alley all those years ago, it had been the only building to really frighten me. Sitting at the intersection that led into Knockturn Alley, the marble domain of the legendary Goblin Bankers of Wizarding Britain certainly wasn't the first thing in Diagon Alley of note, but it was certainly the very first thing that you saw. Towering over its small neighbors, it projected exactly what a bank should: safety and complete security of its items. If someone ever managed to pull off theft from this bank, it would damage the economy in a multitude of ways. It was fortunate that so far only Ron, Hermione and I had managed to pull off the only successful theft from the bank in its near five and half centuries of operation. Despite their disposition, I was sure the Goblins were thankful for it.

Tugging the hood of my robe up as I walked up the steps – I smiled slightly, I wondered if they had replaced the Ukrainian Ironbelly that used to guard the vaults. Did they find the one that we used to escape? What kind of security measures had they implemented since 1998? That was going to be one of my first acts when I assumed control of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. After all, who better to take security suggestions from then one of the few people to ever attempt a theft from the bank and actually get away with it?

Arriving at the top step and nodding my head in acknowledgement at the two goblin guards at the bronze-inlaid doors – I grasped the handles and flung them back. Even a decade later, I could still feel the magical damage that was inflicted on the building from the Dragon's fire. The odds were that Goblin's had extensively reconstructed the bank after the end of the war – I would too – the injustices that the Goblin's had endured under Voldemort, coupled with the humiliation of having their "impenetrable" bank robbed would probably cause them to take steps to protect themselves and their property from now on.

Yes, I could feel very extensive and very powerful Goblin Magic coursing through the very stone of the walls – had that always been there? When I last stepped through the doors, I had been an amateur wizard at best, so I couldn't have known? Very strange. If it had always been there, then I would suggest to the Head Goblin to lay more protection on the walls. If there were sensitive magical objects that Dark Wizards were after, then Gringotts would have to be impenetrable once again – if they weren't safe here, nowhere was safe.

* * *

In terms of expressing gratitude, the Malfoy Family was mixed at the skill.

Lucius was, as ever, irredeemably prideful, stubborn and pompous and I was sure that the thought of being grateful to me of all people would make him nauseous. Narcissa was far better at it, but still, she carried that sense of Black Family entitlement with her that made her just as annoying, but in an entire different way. Without her, I would be dead today and the Wizarding World would be in the grip of a madman. In return, I had secured her ticket from Azkaban, as well as her husband and son – I thought that had settled matters between us. However, about three months after their trial, I was approached by Narcissa on the matter of Black Family vaults and I knew that she placed more worth in her act of bravery then in my act of benevolence. According to her, we were not settled, far from it actually.

When Sirius died, he left everything in possession to me – including the title and privileges that came with being the Head of the House of Black. That included tight control of all of the assets of the House of Black, their properties, their heirlooms and their vaults in Gringotts.

I was already one of the richest Wizards in the world from my control of the Potter Family vaults, heirlooms and financial holdings, but when Sirius died and left me complete control of the Black Family fortune, including Bellatrix's vaults – which were legally under Sirius's control – I suddenly found myself the wealthiest wizard in the hemisphere and the third richest in the world. I was wealthier then the Malfoy Family had ever been its history, and far more powerful than they ever had been too. It shouldn't have been any surprise that someone like Narcissa would come to me. I was their only foreseeable option to stay afloat.

They were powerless and their family name was destroyed – no one would support them.

No one but me – but I was a fool back then.

Thankfully, I hadn't helped them.

Evidently, once the war reparations that Malfoy Family were ordered to pay were calculated in full, it equated to the total value of Malfoy Manor and then most of the Malfoy's financial assets. Narcissa came to me and "claimed" her "right" to the Black Family vaults, wanting to use that fortune to pay off her families debts. If she didn't, they would be forced to sell Malfoy Manor and everything in it – as well as sacrifice three quarters of their total wealth.

I gave her a completely unequivocal no.

That's why I got the Malfoy glares of death from Lucius and Narcissa when I entered the Head Goblin's office – but curiously, I received only a half glare from Draco. There was a certain half-heartedness behind it and it that really got my curiosity going. Was it because he was sitting conveniently out of his parent's sight, or were there no hard feelings for my actions. I would have expected him to be throwing curses at me from the moment I entered the room – if there was one thing that I knew about Draco Malfoy, it was that he was proud and his name was everything. The Malfoy Manor and their money was a part of their identity, and to loose most of it should have made him spitting made, but he didn't seem like it. Did he hit his head? Was there an accident in the past decade? I didn't know.

I knew why the senior Malfoys were angry with me, I had basically condemned them to reduce their lifestyle by seventy five percent and forced them to give up their ancestral family home. I really didn't know why Draco didn't seem to be that angry with me at all.

My information suggested that the Malfoy Family had rebounded slightly in the past decade, with Lucius anonymously investing his wealth in lucrative projects and creating decent streams of income. My information on Draco was sparse, but according to all my sources, he had earned his potions mastery by twenty one years old, naturally, and was doing quite well for himself. Perhaps that was why he wasn't nearly as angry with me as he should be.

Perhaps… perhaps he had learned humility and gained a work ethic in the past decade?

I doubted it.

* * *

Bloody_ fucking_ hell.

I was led to believe that when Andromeda was disowned, she had lost her claims to her portion of the family's fortune. I was wrong, so very wrong. There was not another explanation that could explain the fact that Andromeda had ten million galleons in her vaults here. Andy and her husband, hadn't stayed in our world during their marriage, she couldn't have earned it? Could she? Possibly. The Blacks were very, very good with making money.

"I'm ordering all trusts, assets and financial holdings be liquidated upon the time of my death and the monetary value of such trusts, assets and financial holdings to be bequeathed to my grandson, Edward Remus Lupin," The Head Goblin pronounced, his eyes never leaving the parchment. "Furthermore, all of the money that I leave to my grandson shall be cared for and overseen by my grandson's godfather, Harry James Potter, until Mr. Potter deems that he is a responsible man or until he reaches the age of twenty-five years old."

Shit.

I mean I would protect it, but she left everything to Teddy and she left it up to me to take care of it until I deemed that Teddy could take care of it. Sparing a glance over to the Malfoy Family, I almost wanted to laugh. Narcissa's face had taken on a red quality with what I assumed was outrage. I was under no illusions as to what she really thought of me, and despite the good that had come from the death of Lord Voldemort – I knew that it was unlikely to change. She was a Black and a Malfoy, she thought me unworthy to practice magic and she sure as hell didn't think that I was capable of taking care of large sums of-…

"This is an outrage!" Narcissa hissed – anger and spite dripping from her voice.

"Director, are you sure that this is wise? Mister Potter is not qualified to handle-…"

I snapped my head to Draco and gave him a withering glare – the fool! He thought that he still knew me. He thought that I was the same old Potter that had more strength then brains. What he thought, and what I was now, needed to be reconciled and I was not above doing it here. I mean, who were these people to still talk down to anyone else? Did they have no conception of what the Malfoy name meant nowadays? Did they not understand that most magical crimes in the world were not born out of a pureblooded fixation? Their time was over. In fifty years, being a "pure blood" would be completely irrelevant and an old thing. Having inbred and ancient families wouldn't mean jack to anyone in the world.

"And you are? Well, I suppose in a way you are," I narrowed my eyes at him, meeting that stereotypically frosty Malfoy-glare with one of my own. "You have a successful Potions business, it caters to people around the world and it caters to governments all over the world. You must be compensated very well – but I can assure you, _Malfoy_, that I am compensated with greater things. On top of the fact that I've been handling multi-million Galleon budgets for the past five years, I happen to be wealthier then you are, then all of you are. I'm sure that the Director can attest to the fact that I very good with money."

The Head Goblin nodded, "Mister Potter is one of our biggest clients."

I smirked and looked back to Draco, who looked positively disgusted, "That's our money that's made you so wealthy, and without it, you would be nothing, you still are nothing!"

"When you look it from your point of view, familial right – but legally, I was given the entire Black Estate by the Head of House of Black in his will, so your argument is invalid in front of a court. To your second point, I am many things Draco, but nothing isn't one of them," I grinned when the Malfoy Heir bristled at my cheerfulness, "But seeing you reminded me of something, in regards to your business – in time as DMLE Director in America, I noticed something very curious about your potions business. Your clients, they don't know that it's you that's making the products, do they? You know what would happen if they did, right?"

I didn't know that it was possible for someone to growl and pale at the same time.

My smirk turned into a grin, and I looked down to my fingernails in a gesture of nonchalant innocence, and indifference, to the very clear threats that I was receiving from all of them.

"It'd be a shame for someone to send anonymous letters to all of your clients, I am curious to see how many of them would run from you like the plague," Did he honestly think that that growl was going to scare me? "Get that expression of your face, it's very repetitive."

"Why you-…!" Draco yelled and flew up from his seat, his wand in his hand.

I scoffed, not even bothering to stand – and in a moment that clearly stunned all of the pointy aristocrats in the room, I simply waved my hand and Draco fell back into his chair under the force of my wandless magic. What shocked them even more though was the fact that when I snapped my fingers, his wand flew out of his hand and directly into mine. When I looked down to the hawthorn stick in my hand, I grinned – I'd returned this wand to him at the end of the war, against its wishes and now, through no fault of its own, it had found its way back to me, very curious. There was no telling how of much time it would have taken him to regain control over it – wands were tricky like that and most Wandlore masters, even after a millennia since they were first created, still hadn't answered the question. All of them agreed that in the days before the founding of Hogwarts, when most Wizards depended of staffs to channel their powers, things like this would never happen.

I could feel the wand bowing the weight of my power – and I couldn't help but smirk up at the absolutely gob smacked Draco when I flicked the wand at him and caused his chair to scoot several inches forward. That made three wands that were now under my control and I was seriously considering not returning this one to him – people didn't threaten me anymore. If they did, they suffered, when I swore that I'd ever been weak again, I meant it.

"I believe that Ollivander is selling wands at seventeen sickles at piece, a word of advice though Malfoy, get a wand that likes you, this one really didn't like you," I twirled the wand between my fingers and then turned back to the Head Goblin, who was looking distinctly uncomfortable at the spectacle. "Please continue Director, I have to go meet my godson."

I'd been told that he was staying with the Weasley Family at the Burrow. I was looking forward to that about as much as I was looking forward to an ulcer in my stomach. I wasn't too sure that my machinations with Ron and Hermione had been given enough time to work, but I was sure that once this happened, Hermione, at least would be able to put it together. If wasn't defended by Molly and Arthur, Teddy and I would have to leave quickly.

"Upon my death, I award sole guardianship of my grandson Edward Remus Lupin to his legally appointed godfather, Harry James Potter," The Goblin announced and I looked over to Narcissa, who had gone quiet since my display of power over her pathetic little boy.

I nodded and stood up from chair, it wasn't that I was bored of the will reading, it was just that I knew everything that I needed to know. I would not be content to sit in the presence of the Malfoys for any longer then I had to, "Good – is there anything else I'm involved in?"

The Head Goblin shook his head, "No Mister Potter, you may leave if you wish."

* * *

Shutting the door to the Director's office, I gripped Draco's wand in my hand and spelled the hood of my cloak over my head. No, I would not give it back to him – I knew he had enough money to replace it, but it was the principle behind it. The ridiculous man-child had turned his wand on me! On me! I had studied and practiced magic that he couldn't even fathom! There was no way in hell that I was going to be courteous to him after that insult.

"Potter!" The very distinctive and haughty voice of Draco Malfoy called from behind me.

Grinning slightly and stopping in my tracks, I turned on my heels and proceeded to take him, and I mean _really_ take him in. He was the picture of the aristocracy and the total snobs of the old-wizarding families. Long black cloak, pointy features that had not softened with age – and most… _interesting _of all was his long blonde hair. In the style of his father before him, I assumed that if he didn't have it tied back with a green tie, it would fall right down to his shoulders. It was beautiful hair, and as much as I'm sure he'd love to hear those words come out of my mouth, I would rather walk around Diagon Alley in a tea towel then actually admit them. Admitting them would be admitting that I found Draco Malfoy…

What did I find Draco Malfoy?

He was certainly handsome – yes, and I would even go as far as to say that his Malfoy and Black looks merged together to create a pretty face. I would love to have him in my bed, and if I was drunk enough, or if I spontaneously forgot who he was, I might have even gone for it. Oh yes – despite his shining personality, Draco Malfoy looked to be a load of fun in the sack. Putting my hands on my hips, accentuating his captured wand, I smirked at him.

"What is it?" I asked, no – commanded, I could play his game.

"I'm prepared to beg for my wand," Draco responded, his voice quiet, as if it was a secret.

How very un-Malfoy like.

Didn't he understand that no one cared about such things? The little fool.

"Beg all you like, you raised your wand to me, no one raises their wand to me without suffering the consequences for it, and that includes you," I leaned forward, pointing his hand at his chest and poking him with it, "Time to get a new one,_ if_ he'll sell it to you."

That last sentence came out as more of a taunt then I wanted, but I couldn't take it back in time to not see the obvious hurt that flashed across his face. Ollivander was a naturally forgiving man, he had been his entire life – but for as long as they tortured him, I was confident that Ollivander would forever hold a grudge against this generation of the Malfoy Family. If Draco had children, I only hoped that Ollivander wouldn't punish the child.

"It seems that you've grown into an even bigger prick," Draco hissed venomously at me.

I shrugged flippantly, but genuinely, "Don't care – have a nice life Draco."

And, not missing the look of fiery outrage on his face, I turned back on my heels and departed the office corridor. His was the last of my concerns, Wizards could operate without wands and even then, very easily, especially someone from the Malfoy family – Draco Malfoy, I was sure, would have no trouble in procuring a replacement. What couldn't operate very well were orphans, and right now – I had an orphan to go and make happy.

It was the greatest gift that he could receive right now.

From one orphan, to another.

* * *

Potter had indeed changed.

My mother and father knew it too, but that was where our mutual opinion veered off into two opposite directions. They were convinced that Potter had become far more arrogant then he had ever been – and they were most certainly correct, but for the wrong reasons.

Oh yes, Potter was far more arrogant then he had ever been – but the difference between what my parents thought, and what I thought, was startling. They had not felt the full weight of Potter's wandless magic on them – they had not felt it hum within their bodies and they had not felt the nearly irresistible urge that it exuded for its victim to obey it's master. I knew two things about Potter's life in the past decade, I knew, that like a coward, he had run from all of the problems that had arisen in the country after the end of the war, and I also knew that he had assumed the second most powerful positon in the American Wizarding government. I would never admit it to anyone, not even myself, but I knew that Potter's arrogance was justified, if his accomplishments and power were anything to go by.

However, that was no excuse for him to keep my wand!

Staring at my front door in anger, I knew that I had two options – I would either have to climb in through the window, which would involve me breaking it, or I would have to ask for help. My parents had gone back to their Villa in the south of France – it was unlikely that they would have helped me anyway. That left two options and I loathed the idea of asking either of them for any sort of help, but it would be far more annoying to repair that window.

"Scorpius!" I shouted aimlessly at the building.

I didn't even know if my son was home – he was spending more and more of his time with Marcelo Zabini as the time of their entrance into Hogwarts got closer. Thought it did please me that he was finally making friends with the right people, it made things terribly complicated and terribly irritating when events like this happened. Putting my hands on my hips and silently counting down, if he didn't answer within the next twenty seconds, I would go to the Zabini House and get in that way. God, I hoped he didn't make me go down there.

"Father?" Scorpius's voice called out from the second floor and I almost jumped in joy when he opened the window and stuck his head out of it, "Father, why are you standing outside?"

I felt my irritation rise again, until I could procure a new wand, this was my life.

Damn him, damn Harry Potter.

"Never mind that," I commanded and pointed at the door. "The point is that I can't get in, if you'd please come down stairs and open the door for me, and please me quick about it."

Scorpius nodded and I smiled as he pulled back from the window.

He was such a good boy.


End file.
